


A Date with Darkiplier

by reverseblackholeofwords



Series: Amy and the Egos [1]
Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 19:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reverseblackholeofwords/pseuds/reverseblackholeofwords
Summary: Amy Nelson is sure that she can bring Mark and his estranged Egos back together, but a certain Ego has other plans in mind. He's sure that this is his chance to get all he's ever wanted. He has a date with destiny, and Amy... she has a date with Darkiplier.





	1. A Warm Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on https://reverseblackholeofwords.tumblr.com

Amy is convinced that she can help Mark have a better relationship with the Egos (most of them at least) as long as she’s there to help mediate. The trouble is, she has to be able to avoid Dark if this is going to be successful. Mark isn’t keen at first, but he can never refuse Amy anything. And, truth be told, he misses when he and the Egos got along in the days before Dark turned them against him.

Amy sends a text to the group message, giving the Egos a heads-up. It’s Google’s job to keep Dark busy in his office since everyone else is too scared of crossing him. And she hopes that Bim will be the first to greet Mark since he’s typically the “most normal” Ego.

“I’m really excited about this! I’ve been talking it over with the Host, and he thinks that the others are pretty open to the idea.” Amy is practically skipping down the sidewalk with glee at the thought of reuniting the Egos with their original. She knows Mark feels guilty about the way things have been recently between himself and the Egos, and the chance to mend their bonds is really important to her.

She and Mark step inside Ego Inc. to find Bim huddled up in the corner of the lobby, rocking back and forth where he sits. Amy rushes over to him and pushes his hair out of his face so she can see his teary eyes. When Bim sees that it’s her, he grabs her arms and tries to push her away. “Go, get out of here now!”

Amy is so confused that she can’t bring herself to move. Mark, horrified that Bim would do this to Amy, strides over in a bubbling rage. “What was that for, Trimmer? She’s never been anything but kind to you!”

Bim looks up at Mark with fearful eyes and shakes his head. “No, you have to leave! He knows! Dark knows you’re here!” He looks from Mark to Amy, and the tears are flowing freely down his cheeks now. “This is what he wanted all along, for you to bring Mark here,” Bim says with a whimper.

Mark and Amy exchange a worried glance. “Maybe you should go,” Amy whispers. “I’ll make sure the others are ok.” Mark bites his lip and shakes his head. He isn’t leaving without her. He isn’t leaving without checking on the others.

Suddenly the entire room grows darker. Despite the fact that there are so many windows surrounding them, none of that light coming in through the windows seems to reach the spot where Amy and Mark stand over Bim. The Ego cowers, ducking his head between his knees and trembling all over. A menacing chuckle as deep as the ocean resounds behind them and reverberates through the now acrid air.

Mark and Amy turn to see Darkiplier blocking the way out. His gray aura is sucking up all the light, and his splintering colors of red and blue burn into their retinas. Dark is accompanied by his trademark ringing and buzzing that makes Amy want to reach up and plug her ears, but she won’t give him that satisfaction.

Mark steps in front of Bim and sweeps Amy behind him, effectively placing himself between them and Dark. He feels Amy grab hold of the back of his t-shirt, and she reaches down to take Bim’s shaking hand as Darkiplier takes a few steps forward.

His posture is impeccable, his suit perfectly straight, yet he feels the need to tug at both it and his tie before tilting his head gently to the side and seething, “Did you miss me? I missed you, Mark… very much. I’ve been waiting a long time to see you again.” Dark leans forward, licking across his upper lip with another open-mouthed smile like he’s ready to devour them. “You promised you’d let me in. Don’t you remember?”

Mark feels Amy tense behind him, and he shakes his head at the snarling Ego that is getting closer and closer. “I was at a low point, Dark. You were just trying to take advantage of me.”

As Dark stalks closer, the ringing noise intensifies. He employs his full, gray aura against them now, and Mark can taste the power in the air like electricity in a thunderstorm. It saps every bit of his energy.

Dark cranes his neck farther to the side. “It’s my turn now, Mark, and I’m beyond tired of giving you a choice in the matter.” He straightens and looks past Mark to Amy. “And you… Miss Peebles. I’ve been waiting a long time to get some… personal time between us.”

“Not on your life,” Mark growls back. “I’m the one you want! I’m the one standing in your way, so take me and let her and the others go!” He takes a few daring steps forward, and now the Ego and Mark are mere inches apart.

Dark reaches up and strokes the knuckles of his left hand down the side of Mark’s face. “Strange, isn’t it? How similar we are? Like mirror images.” Dark suddenly surges forward and grabs a handful of Mark’s hair. “How about it, Miss Nelson? Don’t you think we’re the same?” He turns Mark around so Amy can get a good look at the two of them standing there together.

Amy’s heart pounds wildly. She can see the fear in Mark’s eyes and the desperation to get her out of there and as far away from Dark as possible, but she refuses to run and leave the others behind. “Yes,” she says coldly, “mirror images. Except one of you is a good man, and one of you is a coward.”

Dark’s shell cracks and a shadow version of himself wrenches out of position, screaming. Amy flinches, but once Dark has composed himself again, he looks almost cordial. He isn’t trying to seduce her now or trying to get her on his side. Now, he wants her to cower at his feet. Well, let him try to make her, Amy thinks.

Mark looks too exhausted to even still be standing.

“You,” Dark shouts at Bim who’s still trembling on the floor, “take our lovely guest to her accommodations while I deal with this one.” Dark, hand still firmly grasping at Mark’s hair, kicks the backs of Mark’s knees so that he’s kneeling on the floor. “Don’t get too comfortable, Miss Nelson. You owe me a date, after all.” Dark reaches forward, takes Amy’s hand, and brings it to his lips. "I can't thank you enough for bringing Mark here to me, after all."

Amy rears back and slaps him hard across the face. She’s sure Dark is about to retaliate when Bim jumps to his feet and starts pulling her towards the elevator. Amy fights against the Ego, reaching for Mark or trying to escape. Anything but let this happen.

“Please don’t try to fight, Miss Amy,” Bim blubbers dejectedly. “You’ll only make it worse for both of you.” He pushes her into the elevator, surprisingly strong. As strong as Mark, she thinks. “I’m so sorry.” He presses the button for the basement, and Amy’s heart sinks because she’s never been down there before. But she can only imagine what awaits.  
The last thing she sees before the elevator doors slip closed is Darkiplier looming over Mark and saying, “Let’s get started now, shall we?”


	2. Presentable Liberty and Possible Liability

Amy remains silent for the short duration of the elevator ride to the basement. Bim stands above her, sniffling and apologizing profusely. She isn’t mad at him. She knows that he’s just afraid, and part of Amy is afraid, too. Very, very afraid.

When the doors open, Amy is slapped in the face with the smell of dust and the pungent scent of rot. It’s as if Dark took the dungeon of some ancient castle and transplanted it into the basement (however, complete with electric lighting—how convenient). She wouldn’t put it past him.

Bim, with a gentle hand under her arm, helps Amy to her feet and escorts her into the basement whispering, “As long as you go along with what he wants, he won’t hurt you. He has no reason for that, and he doesn’t like useless bloodshed.” Bim takes a staggering breath when they reach a small cell and opens the barred door slowly. It whines on its hinges, and Amy steps inside.

“Bim, you don’t have to do this,” she pleads. Oh, if she could only take them all away from this. Take the other Egos far from Dark’s grasp where they could all be safe. She would save them from this if she could. “He doesn’t own you.”

The man in the suit looks down at his shoes and shakes his head. “You’re wrong, Amy. He does.” With that, Bim shuts the cell door and leaves. She hears the swish-swish of the elevator opening and closing once again, and Amy leans against the wall to steady herself.

Only then does she hear, “The Host just wants to go back to his library. The Host doesn’t want to be hurt anymore. The Host just wants to go back to his library. The Host doesn’t want Miss Amy to see.”

Amy rushes to the door and peers into the cell across from hers. Sure enough, lit in the glow of a single, exposed bulb is a broken and crumpled Host. He lays on his side and hugs his legs tightly to his chest, breathing his words into thin air. And something Amy realizes makes her heart wrench itself in two. He’s covered in bruises.

“Host,” she calls to him, hoping he will respond. “Host, it’s me. You’re going to be ok. I swear, I won’t let him touch you again. Do you hear me?”

The Host doesn’t answer. He only keeps mumbling, “The Host didn’t want to tell Dark those things. He didn’t want to betray Miss Amy. The Host just wants to go back to his library. Please?”

That’s it, Amy decides. If she ever sees Dark again, he’ll be the one in trouble.

Hours pass, and the worry in Amy’s gut winds itself into a little, nervous ball of prickles and barbs until she thinks she’ll be sick. Mark’s been with Dark for hours. She can’t even imagine what might be happening to him. She doesn’t want to.

It isn’t much longer, however, before the familiar sound of the elevator opening makes Amy jump to her feet and step farther back into the cell. She’s not sure who she was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t one of the Googles. It’s Red—she never did get a chance to catch his name—but the cell door opens with a squawk and a snarled demand for her to come out.

Amy finds no pity in the droid’s red eyes. In fact, she finds them entirely unnerving, not that she has that many nerves left at this point. Amy squares her shoulders back and puts on her bravest face, and she follows the droid to the elevator. “You’ll be allowed some time to clean up before your date with Darkiplier, Miss Nelson, so I suggest you look your best. Dinner will be served at seven. You should be ready by six fifty.”

“What? Is Darkipoo afraid I’ll stand him up?” Amy steps into the elevator and crosses her arms over her chest. “Tell him I’ll be taking as much time as I want to get ready, and if he has any problems with it, he can sh…”

Red turns his burning glare on her. “You will not disrespect Darkiplier to me, Miss Nelson. The other Egos may be fond of you, but I am programmed to serve him with the utmost respect.” He turns away from her, and Amy bites back another insult.

They stop on Wilford’s floor where there’s an entire wardrobe department full of anything a person could possibly think to wear. Red shoves Amy out of the elevator and closes the doors behind her with one final, “By six fifty and not a second later.”

Amy huffs and turns to survey the studio. It’s mostly dark when not in use, but it makes her wonder… where is Wilford? Certainly, he wouldn’t go along with this insanity, would he? The Cotton Candy Killer is anything but sane, but he’s not evil. Is he?

“Well, well, well,” a familiar, drawling voice calls from the shadows. Wilford appears from the gloom, adjusting his pink suspenders before drawing a wicked, glinting knife from out of nowhere, “if it isn’t Miss Peebles. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

Amy stares intently at the man before her. He looks disheveled, like Wilford but… even more unhinged. “Will, what did Dark do to you?” She takes a cautious step forward with her hands held out to let him know she means him no harm. Amy only wishes she knew whether or not he was going to harm her.

Wilford wiggles his fingers at his sides. The blade dangles loosely, catching what little light illumines the place where they stand and flashing it back into Amy’s eyes. The pink Ego strides over, eyes wide and crazed. He raises the knife over his shoulder, and Amy presses herself against the elevator, preparing for the worst.

“I forgive you, Wilfy,” she whispers. There’s a pause, and Amy watches Wilford Warfstache halt in place. A few breathless moments pass as Wilford’s hands shake, and Amy thinks she sees that familiar spark return to his eyes. His hand lowers slowly, and Amy releases a breath.

Warfstache shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. “His darn aura, that’s what it is.” He smacks his fist against his forehead so quickly and violently that Amy reaches up and grabs his arm so he won’t hurt himself. “He’s enveloped the whole building in it.”

Amy has to admit that she could feel Dark’s oppressive presence no matter where she was in the building, but until now, she’d thought it was her own anxiety. “Dark’s aura, it’s controlling you?”

“Yes, sometimes, maybe,” Will shakes his head helplessly. He seems to be returning to his frantic fits. “If I ever get my hands on that sleazy son of a…” he stops himself mid-rant and presses the backs of his hands into his eyes. “No, I won’t let him do this.”

Amy feels tears threatening, not for the first time, but she’s not sure how much longer she can hold them back. “Will…”

“No, listen to me before I lose myself again,” Wilford says, panting with the effort of staying aware. “He can’t keep this up much longer. It takes too much out of him to make his aura spread out over this much space, and he knows that if he pulls it back, the others will wake up and fight.” Wilford quickly presses the knife into Amy’s hand. “Take this, if he tries to so much as touch you, well…” Warfstache winks at her and smiles, “Give him a little tickle from me.”

Amy shakes her head, and now the tears have made their way past the wall she’s built up. She can’t control the way her limbs are shaking or the way her breath is totally out of her control. It feels like she’s dying. “No, p-please, Wilford. D-don’t make me do this alone!” she exclaims between gasping hiccups.

Wilford pulls Amy against his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around her and letting her feel the motion and rhythm of his breathing. “Easy there, Miss Peebstache.” He waits for her to calm her breathing before he says, “He can’t affect you as much as he can the rest of us. You’re human, and a very strong human at that. And don’t you forget it!” Wilford squeezes her tighter. “And you won’t be alone. Trust me?”

Amy nods. “Yes.”

Warfstache runs a shaking hand over her hair until she stops crying. “Don’t let him break you. That’s what he wants.”

“H-he hurt Host, Will.”

Wilford tenses, and his voice drops to a growl. “I know, and he let you see it just so it would rattle you like this.” He bites back his anger and keeps talking while the gray is still gone from his vision, “Host is as tough as nails, though. He’ll pull through just as soon as we knock Dark off that high horse of his and beat the living crap out of him instead.”

Amy laughs a little. It’s a wet, breathy laugh, but she can feel that it helps her to piece herself back together. “H-he’ll be upset if I show up looking like a mess, though.”

Warfstache draws back from the hug and wipes the tears from Amy’s face. “I don’t have much longer before I can’t hold him off anymore, but I think that I can at least help you get ready. We have to make sure you look killer, if you know what I mean.” Wilford winks and stretches his suspenders out again like the doof he is, and Amy feels another piece of herself click back into place.

They spend the next few minutes flying through the wardrobe department and picking out a truly killer black dress and heels because, Wilford says, “Any man can kill someone in flats, but it takes a woman to do it in high heels.”

Before Amy knows it, it’s 6:49, and she’s hiding a knife in a little matching purse and getting one last hug from Wilford. “Remember, you’re not alone,” he whispers as the elevator doors slide open, and Red appears looking rather full of himself.

Amy takes a deep breath, squeezes Wilford’s hand, and steps into the elevator, maybe for the last time.


	3. A Date with the Devil

Amy takes a deep breath and smooths her hands over the silky fabric of her outfit. Wilford, bless him, knows the power that a little black dress has against anyone, even Darkiplier.

Amy and Red stand at the end of a long hallway just outside the elevators. It’s like something out of a horror movie—a long, dark hallway with a flickering light just to add extra creepiness, and Amy rolls her eyes because Dark definitely made it this way on purpose.

They pass several black doors on their way down the hall, but Amy knows that she’s destined for Dark’s office, the door at the very end. Red steps ahead of her, knocks on the door in question, and opens it for her, ever the gentleman. Amy steps inside and instantly feels the temperature drop several degrees.

Goosebumps rise on her skin as she surveys the minimalist decor of Dark’s office. Everything inside is a variation of black or gray, sleek and modern, leather and metal. A gleaming grand piano sits in one corner, and in the middle, a table is set up with two chairs, two place settings, and a vase with a single white rose. Red pulls out the chair closest to the door and motions for Amy to take a seat.

“Darkiplier will be joining you shortly,” he mutters and goes to stand guard at the door behind Amy. As she waits, her knee bobs beneath the table uncontrollably. A plan, she needs a plan, but what plan will work against such a skilled manipulator?

The door opens behind her, and Amy doesn’t even turn to look as Dark strides inside and takes his seat across from her. A moment of silence passes as the two of them stare each other down before Dark sets his hands palms-down on the table, and Amy nearly wretches because there’s blood on them. Stay in control, Amy, she tells herself. He’s trying to break you.

Amy cracks a shaky smile. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

Dark’s eyes glitter in a way that somehow makes them seem even darker than usual. Those same eyes wander from the top of her head all the way down to where she disappears behind the table, and he smirks. “You’re actually somewhat aesthetically appealing when you’re scared.” He delivers it like a compliment, but Amy has to stop herself from running for the door.

Dark motions to someone behind Amy, and Google, dressed in a waiter’s suit, steps over with a covered silver platter in each hand. Amy tries to catch Google’s eyes to gauge what the droid is thinking, but Google effectively avoids her gaze as he sets the dishes before them.

Dark reaches up and traces a finger down one of Google’s arms. “Thank you, Google. Amy, don’t you think he looks nice as a waiter?” Amy bites the inside of her cheek and nods slowly.

Google backs away from the table stiffly and bows at the hip. “Dinner is served.”

“You’re excused, Google,” Dark sighs, waving the droid away. He turns back to his “date” and gestures to the food—sushi, Amy’s favorite. “Before you arrived, I had a little talk with the Host. He told me many, many things about you, and he eventually informed me that this is your preferred meal.” Dark smiles and picks up his pair of black chopsticks before pausing for Amy’s reaction.

Amy looks down at the table, takes a deep breath, and picks up a piece of sushi between her own chopsticks with smile. “Yes, thank you.”

Something in Dark’s face twitches. This isn’t the reaction he wants. He wants her to cry, and scream, and demand for him to release her and Mark. It only makes Amy’s smile grow. You want a date, she thinks, I’ll give you a date. Amy eats the sushi, and—it really is good—gives a satisfied sigh. “This is amazing!”

Dark’s shell jitters and cracks, but he holds himself together, joining her in trying the sushi. Amy watches as his face shifts, and he switches gears. Dark reaches across the table and takes Amy’s free hand. The blood smudges onto her fingers, and Amy’s smile falls. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself, Amy. All I wanted was to show you that I can provide for you, so much better than he ever could.”

Amy wants to pull back, wants to reach in her purse, and sink the knife into his hand, but she steadies herself. Dark traces circles on her hand with his thumb, taking another bite of sushi and holding it out for her. “Here, allow me.”

A breath catches in Amy’s throat, and every fiber of her being is screaming for her to run. She forces herself to lean forward and…

The door bursts open behind her, and Amy jumps back, pulling her hand away from Dark. Dr. Iplier stands in the door, breathing heavily and looking disheveled. His blazing brown eyes flick from Dark to Amy and back again. “H-he’s alive. Just like you wanted, b-but we’re having trouble restraining him, sir.”

Mark, Amy thinks, he’s talking about Mark!

Dark smiles and adjusts his jaw. “Thank you, Dr. Iplier. You may go now.” Amy watches as the gray aura swarms around the Doctor like a cloud of wasps, but his eyes shift to her once more.

He snaps, “I’m sorry, Amy. I didn’t want to do it! But I couldn’t control myself!” Red moves to force Dr. Iplier from the room, but the Doctor isn’t leaving without a fight. “I’ll keep him alive for you, Amy! I swear! I swear that I won’t let him die!”

Red finally forces the Doctor out and follows after him, slamming the door as he goes. Amy, her entire body shaking in shock, turns slowly back to a triumphant-looking Darkiplier. He licks his lips and leans forward across the table. “Now, where were we?”


	4. His Liebling

Mark groans, trying to move against the restraints they’ve put on him, but his strength is almost gone. He can feel sleep pulling him under like unrelenting waves of molasses, tugging him beneath the surface despite his best efforts to stay awake. Don’t close your eyes, don’t close your eyes, he repeats in his scattered mind, a broken record.

Every time he blinks… she’s there.

Finally, Mark can’t hold himself back anymore, and he slips fitfully into sleep. And there’s Amy, smiling at him. She beckons him over. The sun glints in her hair as the tide rolls in. Chica races by, chasing after another bird. His friends are up the beach, and they’re laughing and talking. But Amy is pulling him over, closer to the water where their feet wade into the waves. Feet, ankles, knees, all the way up to their waists, and she’s kissing him. Little kisses all over his face and along his jaw. “Liebling, I know it’s a dream,” he whispers to her.

“Good because if not, you wouldn’t survive this,” she purrs into his ear before shoving him beneath the water, holding him there with a vice-like grip. Amy’s form shatters and becomes Darkiplier, laughing and glitching out of place until Mark wakes screaming.

 

Dark rises from his seat at the table, steps over to his desk, and turns on a slow song that plays over hidden speakers around the office. When he turns back to Amy, he leans forward, offering her his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Amy sees the way his hand is trembling, how the dark circles under his eyes have grown, and how his usually gray skin is almost white. If she can keep him busy for just a bit longer, he’ll lose control of his aura. The Egos will be free, and this whole nightmare will end.

She stands up and takes his hand, letting him pull her close. Dark, unsurprisingly, is an excellent dancer, and he knows how to lead her through the motions flawlessly. Amy’s stomach flutters uncomfortably as she notices that Dark smells like aftershave and blood, a disturbing mixture, but if she closes her eyes and ignores the ringing in her ears, he could be Mark. Which is even more disturbing.

“Hm, you dance divinely,” he growls into her ear, tracing his fingers through her hair before dropping his hand back onto her waist. “Now I understand why the others favor you, Liebling.” It’s Mark’s voice in her head but Dark’s lips on her ear, and Amy can’t take it anymore.

She shoves Dark away from her, nearly sending him over the table. “Don’t you dare call me that!”

Dark smiles at her and has the audacity to look confused by Amy’s reaction. “What’s wrong? I thought you preferred that name.” He slips closer again, placing his hands on her waist. “After all, it’s the word Mark screamed when we…”

Amy slaps him again, and this time she’s done playing the part of a girl on a date. She’s done stalling. Done giving him what he wants. Now, Amy Nelson wants blood. “Touch me again. I dare you.”

Dark laughs at her. “There’s the fire I’ve been waiting for,” he growls, pinning her to the wall. Amy panics, but she can’t get away from him. His mouth is hot on her neck, and his hands are so rough holding her in place that she’s sure she’ll have bruises in the shapes of Dark’s fingers. Worst of all are the words he whispers against her skin, “Whatever you want, I can give you.” Another kiss. “Just let me in.” Amy feels herself breaking. “You’ll never be able to defeat me…” He smiles against her neck. Amy screams as he whispers, “You’re mine now, Liebling.”

Before Amy even realizes what she’s doing, she drives the knife into Dark’s abdomen. His eyes level with hers for a moment, and Amy sees in them all her worst fears, including him. Dark blinks and staggers backwards away from her, pulling out Wilford’s knife and dropping it onto the floor. Amy feels his aura drop away.

Her knees give under her own weight, and she hits the floor, unable to get back up.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amy watches as Dark writhes on the floor. His shell splinters and shatters, and Dark roars in pain. Amy closes her eyes and plugs her ears, crying and shaking and wishing for home, for Mark.

After a few moments, she hears someone else run into the room. They’re shouting her name and picking her up off the floor with gentle hands, but Amy, mind broken, tries to fight them off, screaming and flailing until she feels the prick of a needle in her skin. Amy drifts from consciousness with Dark’s last words in her mind,

“You’re mine now, Liebling.”


	5. Waking Nightmare

Amy wakes from a nightmare in a cold sweat. She’s in a room that she barely remembers, underneath covers that smell like someone else, and she feels her heart begin to race inside her chest. The last thing she remembers is…

“You’re mine now, Liebling.”

Amy puts her hands over her ears in a failed attempt to make the voice go away. Someone knocks on the door, and Amy makes a noise in reply, unable to speak just yet. The wooden door opens slowly to reveal the Host. Of course, she thinks, this is his room. The lights are low, there’s a plethora of books, and a personal coffeepot that the other Egos certainly don’t know about. Host takes a few cautious steps into the room, placing a hand on the dark wood of the four-poster bed Amy has been lying in.

“The Host…,” he stops. His voice is strained, and there are obvious bruises around his neck like someone tried to choke him. It’s likely someone did… Amy reaches for him, and he comes near, sitting on the bed beside her. “I’m s-sorry.”

Amy shakes her head and grabs his hand. “No, don’t.” They sit there like that for a few silent moments just holding onto each other before someone else knocks on the door. It’s Dr. Iplier come to check on Amy.

He shines a light in each of her eyes, checks her pulse, all the typical doctor-y things. “We had to sedate you. You were in shock when we found you, and you were fighting and shouting…” Dr. Iplier rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “C-can you tell me… what did he do to you?”

Amy grips the Host’s hand tighter, and she’s sure she must’ve cut off all blood-flow to his fingers by the time she finally speaks, “He came after me, and I had to…” She takes a deep, shaky breath, “Is he dead?”

Dr. Iplier sighs and shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. No one can kill him except Mark, in a sense. It’s part of what an Ego is. We’re… somewhat immortal until forgotten, until our Originals abandon us, but he’s weak. He lost a lot of blood.” The Doctor shakes his head. “Amy, if he had hurt you… And the things that we did…,” he’s starting to lose his temper, and the Host looks up.

He clears his throat and whispers in a crackling voice, “The Doctor feels a calming sensation flood his mind. He understands that he could not control himself under the influence of Dark’s aura and that Miss Amy does not hold it against him.” The Host turns to her and gives a gentle smile. “Right?”

Amy nods and tugs on the Doctor’s sleeve. “I saw the effect that it had on Wilford, and he’s the most hard-headed person I know.” She smiles even if it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t blame any of you for this.”

The change in the Doctor is visible. His shoulders relax at the Host’s words, and his face relaxes into a smile at Amy’s. “You can come see Mark in the clinic whenever you feel well enough. You should be fine as long as you take it slow.” With that, he steps out of the room.

At the mention of seeing Mark, Amy feels her heart skip a beat. The Host stands and helps Amy out of the bed. She’s still wearing the black dress. “I need to change,” she tells the Host, and he nods, leading her over to an antique wardrobe crafted from the same dark wood as the bed. It contains a few simple t-shirts and some slacks. Amy grabs one of each along with a belt and slips into the Host’s bathroom to change. She shoves the dress into a trash can and pulls her hair out of her face, twisting it back and pinning it in place with a pencil she finds stashed in one of the drawers.

The Host takes her down to the clinic without saying a word. When they get there, however, Amy can’t make herself get out of the elevator. “What did Dark do to him? It’s my fault Mark came here in the first place. What if I can’t face him?”

Host lays a hand on her shoulder. “The only person at fault here is Dark, and he won’t get away with this, Amy.” His voice drops, becoming darker, angrier. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Amy places a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Don’t hurt your voice, Host.”

“He hurt you.”

Amy shakes her head. “He only kissed me.”

“He hurt you here,” the Host places a finger on her left temple, so delicately that Amy almost can’t feel it. “I can tell.”

Amy steps into the clinic, leaving the Host in the elevator. “I’ll come see you again before I leave, Hosty,” she whispers as the doors close. Amy looks around the clinic. Ed and Bim are sitting back to back on top of Red while Dr. Iplier treats their bruises and minor cuts.

“Uh, guys?” Amy asks, completely confused.

When Bim sees her, he almost jumps to his feet, but he looks down and makes a face. “Red tried to hurt Dr. Iplier, so Ed and I stopped him.” Bim smiles at her.

Ed nods and hooks a thumb at Bim. “This one tackles like a lineman, know what I’m sayin’?” Bim waves it off, but Amy can tell he appreciates the compliment. She’s just glad to see that they’re both ok.

“Google, Oliver, and Green weren’t affected by Dark’s reprogramming,” the Doctor says, dabbing rubbing alcohol at a cut on Bim’s head. “Google managed to put up some sort of firewall in time, but he couldn’t save Red. They’re working on a fix now, but until then…” Dr. Iplier looks down at a very angry Red and sighs, “We have to hold him down somehow.”

Amy bites her lip and looks around awkwardly. When the Doctor notices, he points her towards one room in particular. Amy runs to the door and takes a deep breath before stepping inside. Mark’s eyes are closed, and he’s hooked up to so many bags and machines… Amy tiptoes over in her bare feet. He’s covered in cuts and bruises. There’s even spots of blood like needle-pricks under his fingernails. Amy bites back tears, running her fingers through Mark’s hair gently.

His eyes flutter open, wandering around a bit until they find her face. Amy can’t stop herself from pulling him to her, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. “Oh, Mark. I’m so glad you’re alive!” When she notices he isn’t hugging her back, she pulls away. “Mark?”

Mark blinks once, twice, and then, “Wh-who are you?”

Amy staggers back away from the bed just as Google storms into the room. He looks like he’s about to say something when he notices the way Amy has pressed herself against the wall of the hospital room. “Amy?” When she doesn’t answer, he says with a twinge of worry, “We can’t find Wilford, and we’ve tried interrogating Dark.” The droid sighs. “He says he’ll only talk to you.”

 

They’ve put him in one of the basement cells, tied to a chair. Amy can tell that Google’s idea of “interrogation” is quite violent. “Stand him up,” she commands the three droids that have fallen into line behind her. They untie Dark and force him to his feet.

Amy knees him in the groin, and when Dark hits the floor, she places two fingers under his chin, raising his face to look at her. “You’re going to tell me what you did to Mark and what you’ve done with Wilford, or I’ll let the droids teach you there are much worse things than death.” He smiles, so she punches him in the mouth.

Dark leans over, spitting out blood. “Oh, Amy.” He looks back up, and he’s not triumphant anymore. All she sees in his eyes is spite. “Did you really think that this was over?”


End file.
